Maybe They'll Name a Drink After Me Too

Weather experts are predicting a lively hurricane season this year. They've assigned a name for every letter of the alphabet--in an egalitarian girl-boy-girl-boy sequence.

Now, I don't live in or near a hurricane zone, and I don't know anyone who does. I'm not a storm stalker or a physics nerd. But I am tickled flamingo pink that the third storm of the season to wreak havoc will be Hurricane Cindy. Yup. Nature's fury and indifferent destruction will finally put my name on a map. A weather map.

If it's the worst one in history, obliterating good chunks of the gulf coast and southeastern region, people might be less likely to mistake me for a Chrissy or Susie, which has often been the case.

"No, my name is Cindy-- you know, like the hurricane that evened-up the red states/blue states ratio. Remember? It was the extremely, extremely, extreeemly devasting and powerful hurricane some have called the Revenge of God upon the Republicans and the South. It completely restored democracy and reverence for the Constitution, and folks in Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois now have a short drive to the beach."

That Cindy.